Not to be left alone

Maybe I'd sing you songs of love and praise if my mouth wasn't so cut and bruised.

I'm the person I am today because I'm sick of being used.

Maybe I would play some songs if my fingers weren't so out of shape and tune.

Million songs up in my head and they aren't to be used.

I'm a wage slave war machine and I've got some ideas for self destruction.

Watch the lines in my face and you'll get an idea of my fourth quarter earnings.

Give me my fucking bailout.